


If You Only Knew The Pain

by noelre



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Hospital, Amputation, Angst, Doctor/Patient, Falling In Love, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sexual Content, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-14
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-01 12:38:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2773286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noelre/pseuds/noelre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Midorima Shintarou loses his leg in a car accident, he also loses his will to live. Rehabilitation and prosthesis doesn’t sound like his kind of life, and he’d rather stay in bed forever – however, Doctor Takao Kazunari wants to make sure that doesn’t happen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> To my dearest, who always listens my struggles. I love you.

_Where… am I…?_

 

Shintarou heard his breath loud, almost foggy. It echoed in his ears with such rush he hadn’t heard before, but it was oddly soothing, to tell the truth. Up, down, up, down his chest rose, to the gentle rhythm of his breaths. It sounded like he was underwater, or rather, as if something was in the way of his mouth. Once he concentrated on that sensation, he realized something was itching on the both sides of his nose and lips. He took a breath deeper than before and let out a quiet murmur. His chest turned heavy all of a sudden, as if someone had dropped tons of rock right over his sternum.

 

As much as he wanted to open his eyes, he couldn’t; his eyelids were heavy, and he could feel the skin sag underneath his eyes. His eyeballs turned in their sockets and created movement over the sheer layer of skin, and had someone been watching him, they surely would have thought he had grown possessed in the matter of few seconds. Panic hit his oh-so rational mind, because he could not understand why it was so _damn_ difficult to do something as normal as open his eyes. His breaths turned heavier, and to the same hasty rhythm his heart started to bounce. Somewhere in the distance a mechanic beeping turned crazy.

 

He forced his eyes open, fast, and for a second was actually afraid that they would pop out. Shintarou stared at the ceiling that was oddly white.

 

_Not… home._

 

His Adam’s apple had never resembled such a tight lump in his throat as it did now when he tried to swallow. He stared at the ceiling but couldn’t make out the details without his glasses. Where were they, anyway? Or, most importantly, where was _he_? His breathing calmed down, oddly enough, and he closed his tired eyes again, but didn’t let them brick themselves back close. Echoes of murmurs danced to his ears and from there to his mind, together with the odd beeps and other mechanic noises. His heart took a beat, and to the same rhythm he heard a beep. Then again, and again, and _again_ , and he realized that whatever machine it was, it was mimicking his heart. Shintarou tried to moisten his dried lips but couldn’t, realized that something was indeed over his mouth and nose; a mask. He let out a wheeze, a scared, odd one.

 

It took a lot of strength to glance to his side from the corner of his eye. He didn’t recognize the place, but he saw enough to know where he was judging from all the cords that came from the machine and disappeared somewhere near him.

 

_Hospital_.

 

A pounding ache was in the back of his head. Shintarou was a smart boy, and as much as he wanted to rip the IVs and other things attached to him, he didn’t. He breathed calmly and tried to collect his thoughts, but they kept running away in a similar fashion to other little kids who had left him alone somewhere in the distant childhood. Why he was thinking about such a pointless thing right now, that he couldn’t understand. He knew he should concentrate on important things, such as why he was lying here, hardly breathing, feeling like dozen people had ran over him, but suddenly he was more interested in looking back his childhood, which he never did.

 

He moved his little finger, however. Then his ring finger, then the middle one, forefinger, thumb, and repeated. The same thing he did with his toes, counted them all to remain sane in a situation he had never thought he would end up in. _Think rationally_ , Shintarou told himself. He might have not known what was wrong with him, but surely someone would walk in any second now and tell him what was going on, break the news for him. Was there a bandage around his head? Somehow, he didn’t feel like anything was wrong with him, but perhaps if he would look from the mirror, it would be different. Thinking of that, he felt a terrible itch on his right shin, as if thousands of little spiders were running over his skin, tickling over the bone and then boring inside one by one.

 

Never before had he felt such a sensation, and Shintarou found himself frustrated. He scoffed, and although he knew he should be a good boy and _not_ move, he had to do the opposite – the itching was driving him crazy. No one would know if he would get up for a bit, since it seemed that no one was in the rush of actually coming here to inform him. He took few deep breaths, rested his eyes and only opened them when he felt like he was capable of fully looking around him. So he did, and confirmed the fact that he was indeed in a hospital room. He pressed his palms against the bed and tried to push himself up, but his body was having none of it. He huffed and pressed the back of his head back against the uncomfortable pillow, breathed deep through his nose and grew aware of the fact that the mask was making breathing very difficult.

 

He clasped the metallic sides of the bed, and as several grunts and moans escaped him, Shintarou pushed himself to sit up. Not the wisest decision, he understood when something in his back made a little cracking noise and turned the pain so much worse. But he would only scratch the itch and then return back lying down, he promised himself that as he mustered enough strength and leaned over his lengthy torso. Another wheeze escaped him, and he was counting the inches between his fingertips and the shin. Few more, few more… He planted his palm over the itching spot, but felt nothing. Nothing.

 

There was _nothing_.

 

The machine by his side went a little crazy, and he didn’t know how to calm himself down. He patted his shin, but there wasn’t a shin at all, just hard bed and a blanket that was completely flat against the mattress. _A dream?_ Of course, how stupid he was! A huff of laughter escaped Shintarou, and he fell down on the bed, let out a muffled laughter. What a nightmare… To be on the safe side, he brought his tired arm over on his other side and pinched the skin on the crook of his elbow. It hurt. Not a dream.

 

Never in his life had he worked himself so quickly up as he did now. The machine hooked to his arm and monitoring his arm turned high-pitched, screamed, wailed, and it was exactly what he did, too. Shintarou screamed, shouted, patted the bed on the spot where his leg was supposed to be, but there was nothing, _nothing,_ and as he brought his hand over his other leg, at least there was still a leg, but the existence of it wasn’t at all soothing. The mask muffled none of his terrified screams. He grabbed the edge of the blanket and threw the fabric aside, looked at the hospital gown, picked up the hem – stared at a stump of flesh wrapped up in bandage. No shin, no leg, no knee. A clean cuts on the right, a round end, no leg. Still, he felt the itch. He had wiggled his toes, he had counted them, and it was itching so badly, not the stump but the _shin_!

 

Shintarou let out a scream and couldn’t possibly stay calm anymore. He grabbed the mask and yanked it away, tried to get out everything that was possibly attached to him, tried to scream help but not a single word escaped him, as if his vocal chords had been cut out, but that couldn’t be it, he wouldn’t have made such a ruckus with his voice otherwise. The world seemed oddly monochrome, it spun around, made him dizzy, but in the haze, in the _noise_ of monitors beeping and blending to his screams, he spotted people running inside, people grasping him, people holding him down.

 

“St—!” he tried, but couldn’t get past the first syllables.

 

“Shintarou!” a voice unknown called.

 

He couldn’t help but scream. His leg was gone, it was _gone_ , how could he go to sleep and then wake up and it simply wasn’t there anymore?

 

“Shintarou!” The voice was firm, and surely it would have been soothing in any other situation. A man loomed over him, looked dangerous, held him by his shoulder; dark hair fell over the eyes he had never seen before. Right now, the stranger was an enemy, and right now, that enemy kept calling his name. “Shintarou, this is Doctor Takao, do you hear me?”

 

Shintarou screamed, cried, tried to struggle, tried to kick the people away but he no longer had anything to kick people with. The thing was _gone_.

 

“Shintarou, do you hear me?”

 

_Yes, yes_ , he did hear this man, but did the man hear him?!

 

The stranger straightened his posture and let other people do the holding, leaned over another person. “Sedative, please… Smallest dose, yes… Yes…”

 

Hands kept invading his personal space, hands forced him to lie down, hands pulled the blanket back over him and placed the mask back on. The greenness of Shintarou’s eyes widened, and now the mask did muffle the ear-piercing noises he made. He shook his head, struggled, but the three odd strangers holding him down were too strong. The strangest of the strangers, the dark-haired one, the one with eyes like the devil’s leaned over, looked concerned but held an injection in his lean fingers. Shintarou stared at him, shook his head, felt tears roll down the sides of his face. The good doctor hushed him with a gentle voice. A whine resembling of a kicked puppy dog escaped his saliva-dripping mouth when something sharp was forced through his skin.

  
“Shintarou,” called the good doctor again, and this time his voice sounded hazy. Or maybe he was just getting underwater; Shintarou wasn’t sure anymore. Concentrating his gaze on the man wasn’t easy anymore. Quietly the stranger continued, “Sleep now… Relax…”

 

So he did, scared and alone.

 

* * *

 

Shintarou heard his breath loud, almost foggy, but this time it rasped in his lungs. Also, this time he knew to anticipate it; perhaps his mind had already caught up and his heart didn’t turn the machine into a lunatic. The ache in the back of his head hadn’t disappeared, and it made him want to throw up, although his stomach grumbled from hunger and annoyance. His eyeballs moved restlessly in the sockets, and the skin layered over them was heavy, but this time it took him less effort to actually get his eyes open. Again, the same white ceiling. Again, the same clinical scent he had gotten before.

 

He closed his eyes and didn’t want to open them anymore. He moved his fingers, one by one, started from the smallest and worked his way to the thumb, and then did the same with his toes of his right leg. Yes, his toes were still there, they were _there_ , how else could he have felt them? A part of him, the sensible, the nagging one, brought up the image of the stump, of the roundness of what was left of his leg. He opened his eyes quicker than he wanted and took a sharp inhale. His pulse shot up the roof, and suddenly, he felt pain all over his body, which was something that hadn’t happened before. Suddenly, his bones and joints ached, and suddenly, the sensation of not having a leg to move hit him.

 

Before he worked himself up, a gentle voice by his side said, “Good morning.”

 

Now, his heart jumped to his throat because he got startled. He wanted to turn his head to the side to see who addressed him, but the pain around his neck was intense; moments later he realized that something was actually keeping his neck in a steady position. Shintarou caught a glimpse of hair light as the summer blue sky when the owner of the voice leaned over him and removed the mask from his face, made him able to breathe again. As if locked in a cage underground for all his life, he took a deep breath, as if only now he got the taste of freedom. Blue eyes curiously scanned him, a warm hand squeezed his shoulder, and then the man was gone from his vision again. The voice wasn’t, however.

 

“I’ll go get the doctor, please take it easy.”

 

As much as Shintarou didn’t want to obey, he couldn’t help but take it easy – he didn’t want hands holding him down again. A shiver crawled over his body, or at least what was left of it. He got the urge to push himself back up and test out if he really didn’t have the leg, and if that was so, he wanted to rub his fingertips over the soft roundness of what was still left. It couldn’t be true… Couldn’t. He couldn’t test it, instead, he laid still like a hurt animal that had no other choice but to submit to the hunter. Shintarou took a deep inhale through his nose and exhaled through his mouth, tried to calm himself down again. He wasn’t a cornered animal, and the doctors weren’t his hunters, was what he kept telling himself. The moment he heard footsteps approaching, his body tensed, and the reassuring thoughts disappeared.

 

He could move his neck just enough to glance towards the door, and there stood the man that he had thought as a devil before the sweet oblivion. The man didn’t look like a devil at all, instead, a colorful band pushed his hair back out of his face, he held a gentle smile on the curvy lips, and he stood rather short – or, at least, shorter than him. The pinkness of his shirt was bright, and somehow made him look more approachable. The smile was definitely too much, thought Shintarou and then felt miserable for even thinking about such an idiotic thing in the state he was at the moment.

 

“Morning, Shintarou,” the doctor said and sounded almost _carefree_ at the moment. Terror moved its claw around Shintarou’s heart as the man stepped closer and pushed his hand to his white jacket’s pocket. “I’m Doctor Takao Kazunari, but please call me Kazunari. Do you mind if I look through the routine things? After that you can sleep as much as you want again.”

 

Warily Shintarou nodded and wasn’t sure what else to do. He wished he could see this Doctor Takao better than he did at the moment, and so he hastily looked around in the desperate attempt to find his glasses. He spotted them on the little nightstand that was situated beside the table, right next to an empty vase, and tried to reach his hand towards it, but before he could properly even lift a single finger, the good doctor already offered the glasses to him. Shintarou nodded as a thank you, wasn’t too confident about his voice not breaking yet, and closed his eyes when the man even went to the length to put the glasses on him. Once he regained his proper vision, he realized that Takao Kazunari had kind features. Somehow, after knowing him about ten seconds, he wasn’t surprised at all.

 

Kazunari took a seat from the chair beside the bed and pulled off the stethoscope around his neck, leaned over and popped open the first button of Shintarou’s hospital shirt. “This might feel a little cold,” he warned, glanced briefly up at him and then opened the second button and pressed the metal against the bare chest. Shintarou inhaled sharply to the sensation; the metal felt cold, so much in fact that it turned burning hot on his skin. If he had strength in his body, he would have pushed the doctor away because the mere object felt like it was crushing his chest, but he forced himself to calm down. He squeezed his eyes shut.

 

“Inhale deeply for me, please…” Kazunari’s words turned into warm breath as they hit his cheeks, and it made Shintarou quiver. He did as was told, took a deep breath and held it in to the point that it created a stinging sensation to his lungs. He felt color rush to his face, too. “And exhale,” said the doctor, and Shintarou obeyed. For what seemed like the longest of time he listened Kazunari’s words of _inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale_ , and it sounded like a chant, an odd lullaby of some sorts. Shintarou did feel a little drowsy, and his breaths weren’t as deep as he truly wanted them to be. He hung his head a little to the side and wanted to nod off, or at least wanted something pumped in his veins. The pain was increasing by the second, but at least the metal on his chest had turned genuinely warm.

 

This time it was Kazunari who took a deep breath himself and pulled away he stethoscope, and buttoned the shirt. “It sounds a little raspy,” he said and looked at Shintarou in his eyes, nodded a bit. The smile wasn’t as visible as it had been. “But we’ll monitor the situation, so you shouldn’t worry at all.” The good doctor pulled back but remained seated, perhaps hesitated a bit, and Shintarou couldn’t help but look at him. He wasn’t showing any signs of actually leaving, and he assumed that it was indeed the case, thus, he fought the urge to fall back to sleep. Maybe now, he could ask the questions…

 

Kazunari beat him to it. “Do you know why you’re here?”

 

Shintarou shook his head. The movement irritated his nape.

 

“You were in a car accident, and you were brought straight here,” explained the doctor and brushed some of the escaped hair behind his ear. His posture slumped ever so slightly and made him look shorter, but hastily he pulled himself taller again. He fixed his gaze on Shintarou, and Shintarou felt like he was pinned on his spot, forgot to breathe. Kazunari moistened his lips. “By the time you got here, you lost a lot of blood—“

 

“Doctor,” Shintarou finally croaked, and wished someone had offered him water. The surface of his tongue felt like a desert and got stuck against his teeth and palate. At the moment, he wasn’t interested in petty details. He pulled his fingers to a loose fist and clenched his jaw, and glanced up at the doctor. “Where… is… my leg?”

 

The corners of Kazunari’s mouth tensed. He exhaled a huff, as if he had been holding it in longer than he was supposed to. “We had to amputate it.”

 

Shintarou’s heart stopped beating for a silly moment. It was now his reality. He had no right leg. How he wished it had been denied for him!

 

“You had lost too much blood, and the bones were crushed, and there was nothing we could do to salvage it.” Kazunari cleared his throat, quietly; to Shintarou, he looked almost uncomfortable, which was ridiculous. “We… amputated it slightly above the knee, and you will have to stay here for a while. We naturally informed your parents, they should be on their way. We will start rehabilitation as soon as possible, and we can give you prosthesis, too, so your life can become as normal as possible afterwards.”

 

“But…” Shintarou found himself short of breath. Rehabilitation? _Prosthesis?_ “C-Can… I-I…” Forming the words was difficult, as they got stuck in the throat and choked him.

 

“Take your time,” encouraged Kazunari.

 

He wasn’t even sure anymore what he wanted to say. His mind spun. “Will… I w…walk?”

 

Kazunari’s expression darkened, but only momentarily as it very quickly turned neutral again. He glanced at Shintarou’s lower body and then brought his gaze back up to the younger male’s face. His brows drew in to a light frown. “You’ll walk, I promise, but some things might be difficult to do afterwards. But it will take a long period of rehabilitation and learning to walk with the prosthesis…”

 

Shintarou simply tuned out of the man’s voice, as he couldn’t bear to listen anymore. A long period of rehabilitation… How long was that, months, years? He would be lucky to walk, but what about playing basketball? Could he do what he had done until now? Doubt sneaked in his body, took over and made his bones ache and mourn for their lost comrade. He wished he could have run his fingertips over the skin of his leg, feel it there, know that it would all be okay and after few days he could get back on his feet, get up and do things like he had done them.

 

It was silent in the room again, and he wasn’t sure at what point Kazunari had stopped talking. He didn’t care. Slowly Shintarou averted his gaze to the other side of the room and closed his eyes, but it didn’t prevent the stubborn tears from rolling down his cheeks. A chair screeched, and seconds later he knew that the doctor had been considerate enough to actually leave so he could cry in peace. He did indeed cry, let out gross little sniffles and rubbed his nose to the pillow that got soaked with snot. An intense pain pierced his leg, or rather, where they had been, where it was _supposed_ to be, and there was nothing he could do to relieve that sensation. He cried out, loudly, but this time no one bothered.

 

He wished that whoever had run over him with a car would have killed him.


	2. Chapter 2

“Midorima Shintarou, eighteen years old, um… U-Uh, right leg amputated a week ago… Um, mm…”

 

Blankly Shintarou stared at the new intern whose voice shook as he tried to explain the details to Kazunari who patiently waited. Shintarou actually found himself sort of sympathizing with the intern, although his trembling, hesitant voice was slowly starting to annoy him; so were the quivering hands that held his information on pieces of paper. Soon he heaved out a sigh and rubbed his temples, and knew that even he could have done a better job at this than the poor little thing who was now shaking from head to toe and looked ready to cry. Happy of the fact that he was finally able to sit, Shintarou scanned the man from head to toe and apparently made him even more nervous, judging from the eyes that were getting a little teary. _You’re being too nervous, idiot_ , was what he wanted to say but kept his lips tightly pursed. He thought he saw a hint of amusement on Kazunari’s mouth.

 

“Uh… T-The patient experiences shortness of breath and… phantom pains,” the intern finally mustered out and sighed from relief.

 

“And how should we ease the patient’s phantom pains?” asked Kazunari. Shintarou wasn’t sure whether it was asked for teaching or teasing purposes.

 

Again, the intern’s now calm façade crumbled down within seconds. Shintarou heaved out a sigh and pulled the blanket better over him, and tried not to think about the piercing pains and aches he kept having in his leg that didn’t exist anymore. He would have understood the pain in the residual limb, because the cut had been sore and sensitive, but he kept having itches on the shin and the foot, and it was an itch he couldn’t soothe. As another heavy, impatient sigh escaped him, he pressed the small of his back better against the more comfortable pillow that was supporting his quest of sitting up. Thankfully there was only one intern with Kazunari today – in the first few days there had been a handful of them, and he felt like some zoo attraction. He glanced at the good doctor briefly, and once their eyes met, Shintarou averted his gaze back to the intern. The idiot still hadn’t come up with the answer although it was obvious.

 

“Well?” Kazunari’s voice was still kind, which was surprising.

 

“Ah, um…” The intern went through his papers one by one.

 

Shintarou couldn’t take it anymore; he just wanted peace. “Pain killers.”

 

Kazunari’s brows arched higher, but a smile quickly appeared on his lips as he looked at Shintarou. “Good. We’ll give the patient pain killers, help him massage the residual limb and recommend the start of rehabilitation.” He leaned towards the intern and gently squeezed his shoulder, which made the younger one startle. “Go grab yourself a glass of water, and try to relax a bit.”

 

When the intern left without having to ask twice, Kazunari heaved out a deep sigh and let his shoulders collapse. Shintarou thought that it actually took a longer time than normally for the doctor to collect himself, but when he did, he was smiling again like his patience hadn’t been tested at all. With discomfort in his body Shintarou examined Kazunari move smoothly beside the bed and, like so many times before when it was just the two of them, sit down on the seat. Maybe the man thought it would feel more _buddy-like_ like this, or that he’d suddenly start opening up to him – that wouldn’t happen in million years. As much as he wanted to cross his arms over his chest, he rested them over his abdomen, and didn’t even accidentally want to bring his hands near the _thing_.

 

“How are we feeling today?” asked Kazunari as he grabbed his somewhat messy papers and a pen.

 

Like every day, Shintarou answered with stubbornness in his tone, “I don’t know,” and like every day, he got an upward glance from Kazunari. But the doctor’s expression didn’t waver as he wrote something down with letters that were hard to interpret (he had tried to read it upside down to know what Kazunari was assumingly deducing from him but so far, he didn’t have any luck). He craned his neck and then sat up a bit straighter than before, cleared his throat. He wasn’t paying much attention to the fact that his shirt was unbuttoned and the coldness of the stethoscope invaded his private space; he concentrated on taking deep breaths and looking outside the window. Someone had pushed the curtains out of the way. The weather looked just as dark and rainy as he felt his mood was.

 

Slowly he turned to look at Kazunari again. Over the week he had been forced to lay here, he had learned a thing or two about the good doctor (although he wasn’t very happy to learn such petty information). Kazunari was twenty-nine, a pediatrician and for some reason assigned to him – he didn’t consider himself as a child anymore, truthfully –, and perhaps it was because he worked with children that he had such a kind, reassuring smile on his lips. Also, it seemed that the nurses were fond of him, but to their attempts of flirtation he merely smiled politely and then concentrated on the matter in hand again. Part of Shintarou thought that the man must have been a heartbreaker. Not that he was interested in such a thing, he was merely assuming. The most ridiculous detail must have been the fact that the band holding the dark hair out of Kazunari’s face seemed to change color every day. Shintarou scoffed and looked at the rainy window again.

 

“Let’s see how the leg looks like, shall we?”

 

“W-What?” Pulled out of his thoughts, Shintarou turned his gaze back to Kazunari, and his eyes widened. Kazunari was already pulling the blanket out of the way inch by inch, but Shintarou stopped him by yanking the blanket back up. “We don’t have to do that, it’s fine.”

 

Kazunari’s dark brows pulled higher as he glanced at him. “I need to redo the bandage and see how it looks like, and hopefully we don’t have to suffocate the cut anymore.”

 

A lump rose to Shintarou’s throat. That meant that he’d actually have to _see_ the roundness of the thing, the flesh that he refused to believe was his… His breath hitched and then got stuck in his lungs, and made him cough, but in the middle of wildly doing that he still shook his head and gained a shallow sigh from his doctor. When he was back in control of the noises he made and his lungs, he took a deep breath and sharply said, “I don’t want to see that thing.”

 

“You can look elsewhere.” Kazunari’s gaze turned gentler as he took a hold of the blanket again, and as he this time started to pull it down, Shintarou didn’t resist. Instead, Shintarou did as was told and looked elsewhere, but didn’t think it was enough and squeezed his eyes shut. He felt the breeze of the air conditioning on the leg that he had buried under blankets for several days now; the new, odd sensation brought goose bumps on the skin. Kazunari worked in silence, thankfully, but still Shintarou felt uneasy. He could _feel_ fingertips over his thigh, and he felt how the layers of bandage came off one by one. A shivery breath escaped him. Not once had he looked at his leg, not even once, and the idiotic part of him got too curious. He glanced towards his lower body and cringed. There was the stump, uncovered, so naked and raw; the skin was red, the scars probably remaining there forever. Kazunari worked his hand gently yet efficiently over the spot, and Shintarou had to look away again.

 

“The cut looks clean, it’s healed nicely.” Kazunari pushed himself slightly away and grabbed a bottle of lotion, got the liquid in his hands and then spread it over the skin. The sensation made Shintarou’s skin crawl, and he quivered. He wasn’t able to swallow the lump from his throat down anymore, not even when he noticed from the corner of his eye that Kazunari smiled to him. The man continued, “The skin is a little dry, so I’d suggest that we—“

 

“Cover it,” Shintarou interrupted with a muffled voice. His leg was just so _there_ , so visible and so disgraceful. He bit the inside of his cheek and then released the tender skin from his teeth’s grasp when it stung a second too much. “Cover it up.”

 

It sounded like Kazunari was holding in a breath, but in the end he said nothing as he merely pulled the blanket back over the legs. Shintarou thought he was off the hook, but the back of his mind knew it was too early to actually celebrate. Indeed, Kazunari casually asked, “Have you finally given thought to rehabilitation?”

 

“I’m not doing it,” he said instantly. There was no question about it.

 

“It might ease the pain you’re having.”

 

“Give me more pain killers in that case.” Shintarou didn’t understand why it was so hard for Kazunari to grasp the concept of a simple _no_. He didn’t want to rehabilitate the _thing_ , he’d rather let it rot away. Prosthesis was out of the question, too; for the rest of his life he’d lay in bed, and he was already mentally preparing himself for it. He was _accepting_ the fact that he’d never walk again, and couldn’t understand why Kazunari didn’t let him do that in peace.

 

From the corner of his eye he saw the doctor get up, and he let out a sigh of relief. _Finally_ some peace! He reached towards the book that waited him on the nightstand, was ever grateful that his mother had brought it with her when she had visited. Today he would read it through, then request another book from a nurse, and maybe sleep some more… His plans got cut off immediately when ominous squeaking filled the room, and with widened eyes he stared at on his left side where Kazunari now stood, not alone – with a _wheelchair_. The good doctor’s stance was childishly stubborn-like, and Shintarou’s heart skipped a beat. He moved the book by his side and grasped it tight enough to turn his knuckles pale. He couldn’t breathe properly, but when Kazunari parted his lips to say something, he was faster.

 

“I’m not sitting in that.”

 

“Come on,” Kazunari coaxed and for a moment, smiled as bright as the Sun. “Aren’t you at least a bit interested to know what’s outside this room?”

 

“No.” Shintarou was painfully aware how childish his tone suddenly got, but he wasn’t going to budge.

 

Kazunari frowned. “It’ll do you good, you shouldn’t lay down all the time.”

 

“I don’t care, I won’t do it.”

 

“I’ll give you a blanket so no one can see your leg, alright?”

 

Shintarou turned silent. He wasn’t sure how the hell Kazunari had caught on that, but that was exactly what he was most disgusted with – he didn’t want everyone stare at him with sympathetic eyes. He didn’t need sympathy, and he didn’t want it, either; he didn’t want to be some exotic thing that everyone would stare at for the rest of his life. Shivers of coldness and slight fear escaped him, and very carefully he sized the wheelchair. It looked surprisingly comfortable, but not a thing he wanted to spend a lot of time in. He pulled his gaze up to Kazunari.

 

“Aren’t you busy?” he asked.

 

“Not really,” Kazunari said.

 

Again, Shintarou weighed his options. Truthfully, he was getting a little tired of laying down, but the world behind his safe room’s door frightened him. He chewed his bottom lip until he got an irony taste in his mouth and clicked his tongue. “Five minutes,” he said.

 

“Fifteen,” bargained Kazunari.

 

“Seven.”

 

“Ten.” Kazunari smirked.

 

“Fine!” Was he really the younger one of them?

 

To say that Kazunari looked pleased would have been a serious understatement. Shintarou glared at him behind his glasses, happy that the light on the ceiling caused some reflection so that he couldn’t fully see the man. He didn’t miss the fact that Kazunari patted the wheelchair, invited him forward, really, and he let out a frustrated sigh. Shaking his head, Shintarou inched himself towards the edge of the bed and cringed when a new wave of pain pierced through the leg that was no longer there. Pathetic whimpers escaped him as he leaned towards the wheelchair and grabbed its sides with his hands and squeezed so hard that it hurt. The gap between the bed and the chair looked humongous, and never before had he struggled so much. He breathed hard through his nose and decided to stop thinking about it, and with the help of his remaining leg tried to get himself to sit down.

 

A disaster, that it was from the very first second. One side of his body cramped hard, and he let out a cry, found himself hanging in the gap, his good leg tangled to the sweaty sheets. Immediately Kazunari’s arms approached him, but Shintarou snarled, “Don’t touch me!” Although momentarily the arms disappeared near him, as soon as he pushed himself forward and nearly fell face down on the floor, Kazunari hooked this arms straight underneath his armpits and held him up. “I-I said…” Shintarou tried, but found himself surprisingly out of breath.

 

“Let me help you just a little,” Kazunari murmured and let out a grunt as he pulled Shintarou up. It took a bit of trying and a lot of huffing, but eventually Shintarou did find himself seated in the wheelchair with crushed dignity. A faint hue of red took over his cheeks and ears, and he couldn’t but stare down at his lap. _If only_ he’d still have his leg, he could have done it… He pulled his fingers to a tight fist and wanted to smash it against what was left of his leg but underneath Kazunari’s gaze he couldn’t. Instead, he gritted his teeth and averted his gaze, and tried to ignore the ache that was pulsing very near the clean cut. Kazunari huffed and grabbed a gaudy quilt from the nearby shelf, and settled it on Shintarou’s lap. “Feeling better now?”

 

Shintarou merely shrugged.

 

“Don’t feel ashamed.” How could someone have such a kind voice all the time? Kazunari even held a smile on his lips as he moved himself behind the wheelchair and pulled it backwards out of the room inch by inch. “We all need help from time to time, and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

 

“Sure,” Shintarou mumbled. He wasn’t really registering the good doctor’s words that deep in his head, not when he was busy trying not to feel so nauseous as he watched the safety of the hospital bed get farther and farther away by every second. His pulse ticked right on the root of his ear and drove him insane, and hastily he settled the quilt better on his lap. His face still glowed from embarrassment – he couldn’t believe he hadn’t even managed to move from the bed to some wheelchair without any help! His lungs were at frenzy trying to pump oxygen fiercely in and out of his system, and it didn’t calm him down at all that Kazunari was _really_ pulling him out of his little secluded haven.

 

The room had been blissfully quiet throughout the week, so the volume of noise on the corridor hit him like dozen bulls all at once. Truthfully, it wasn’t _that_ busy, but for him it felt like so; after all, his only contact had been Doctor Takao and the odd nurses and interns that would drop by every now and then. Shintarou swallowed hard and muffled a cough to the back of his palm, and looked around. The walls were weirdly lavender-colored, and whenever they passed someone, that person would smile – whether the smile was for him or Kazunari pushing him forward, he wasn’t exactly sure. Around the corner, and on the lavender wall pictures of jungle animals had been painted, skillfully nonetheless. Hesitation nipping his stomach, Shintarou glanced up and behind at Kazunari, who said nothing, just smiled in the way that was slowly becoming extremely infuriating. However, Kazunari blended in just fine in the calmness of the colors with his pastel light-pink shirt and white jacket; today, the hairband was bright orange.

 

“Where are you taking me?” he asked.

 

“To get some fresh air!” Kazunari let out a huff and looked down, smiled. “It’s really not good to sit inside all day if your doctor is allowing you to get outside for a moment.”

 

“Whatever,” mumbled Shintarou and turned his gaze in front of him again.

 

His arms itched to cross themselves over his chest but he didn’t give permission, instead, he fiddled with the quilt that warmed his lap. He felt a tic on his nonexistent leg, and then that tic turned into an itch; slowly but very surely, it felt like his skin pulsed and then turned into pain. His breath turned short again, but he took a deep inhale and tried to act as nonchalant as possible, didn’t want Kazunari to get all over him again. He couldn’t ignore the sensation of cold sweat on his forehead, though, or the terrible urge to cough his lungs out, but he endured, even if it meant having to fill his cheeks with air once in a while. Nurses and doctors passed him, and whenever someone made the mistake of looking at him longer than a second, he offered them a glare. No one seemed to be too phased about it, though, much to his displeasure.

 

Running steps echoed behind them on the lilac corridor. “Doctor Takao!” a light voice called, out of breath, and the nurse that made them stop and then stopped by Kazunari’s side was someone Shintarou recognized from his light blue hair. They exchanged words, quiet ones, and eventually the dark eyes laid on him.

 

“Wait here just a moment, I need to go check on an another patient,” said Kazunari as he already took steps towards the nearest door that was swung wide open.

 

“I knew you were busy,” Shintarou called.

 

“Two minutes, don’t go anywhere!”

 

Again he filled his mouth with air and puffed it out. Awkwardly the too carefree doctor left him right in the middle of the corridor, and he really didn’t know what to do with himself. People passed him with difficulties, and his cheeks glowed bright and red. Too many times he had to mumble a quiet ‘sorry’, and once he did it for the tenth time, he couldn’t handle it anymore. Shintarou moved his hands away from the safety of his own lap and moved them to the wheels of the chair, and only managed to move with a slow pace; he couldn’t understand how people worked with these things so effortlessly. He shrugged. All the more reasons to stay in bed forever, he supposed as he rolled the chair backwards. For a moment he hesitated, knew that he was now out of the way, but couldn’t help his curiosity and moved just a bit back again.

 

Right next to the open door, Shintarou heard Kazunari’s voice but couldn’t make out the words. As much as he wanted to look directly from the door, he had at least _some_ decency left in his ridiculous body and instead, he sat up straighter to glance through the window; thanked his height, too. Through the glass he saw a little girl sitting on the bed, and although she had no hair left on her head, she smiled ever so brightly when Kazunari sat on the edge of the bed and toyed with a teddy bear. Shintarou swallowed so hard that it hurt, and as he felt his heart tick rather dangerously, he let his posture slump again. His curiosity was too great, however, and he couldn’t help but crane his neck again in an attempt to see something. The girl hugged Kazunari, intensely it seemed, but with a smile still on her lips. As she got the bear in her arms, Shintarou slumped down again, couldn’t bare to watch the gentleness that was trying to push itself in his life as well – but he wanted none of it.

 

He breathed deep and let out a grunt when Kazunari stumbled against the wheelchair.

 

“Ow,” Kazunari muttered and rubbed his thigh. When Shintarou glanced at him – looking a little guilty, no doubt –, the good doctor frowned. “Don’t tell me you were planning to escape!”

 

Shintarou scoffed and rolled his eyes. “I wasn’t.”

 

“Good.” Kazunari did sound surprisingly pleased as he pushed the wheelchair back into movement. “You shouldn’t be disobeying your doctor’s orders, after all.”

 

_What a child_. Maybe Kazunari had spent a moment too long in the pediatrics, Shintarou now reasoned to himself and decided that it was the truth indeed. Quietly he cleared his throat and really wanted to clench his right leg, because out of the blue the pain turned pulsating. He refused to touch it, refused to pay attention to it although the leg demanded it loudly. He gritted his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut, and could already feel the brush of wind against his face coming from the nearby doors that slid open.

 

“Are you doing alright?” Kazunari asked, as if he could read him like an open book.

 

“Just perfect.” Shintarou tried to sound neutral but couldn’t help the snarl that managed to sneak in between the words. He hummed and rubbed his forehead, and just hoped that this ordeal would be over soon so he could bury himself back under the blankets and perhaps fall asleep. He dreamed of that moment, knew that no one would bother him anymore for the rest of the day because the daily examination had been done already. Another hum escaped him, followed by a heavy sigh. When the double doors opened for them specifically, he lifted his arm to shield his eyes from the sudden sunlight.

 

It was amazing how quickly a single week could change the nature. The sunlight wasn’t warm anymore, it was harsh and cold, and quickly it disappeared behind a sharp-shaped cloud. Shintarou frowned lightly and looked up. The trees had turned vibrantly colorful, showed off the shades of red and yellow, and somehow the sight made him quiver. He pulled the quilt better over his lower body and moved his hands underneath the warmth, too. Surely he got fresh air, but this wasn’t exactly what he had been hoping for. Already Shintarou pined to get back inside, because this – this was horrible.

 

“Ah, jeez,” Kazunari muttered and took few calm steps, pushed Shintarou forward as well. “It wasn’t supposed to be this cold… We’ll just take a walk around the yard, okay? This is torture!”

 

“Mm,” was all that Shintarou let out of his quivering mouth.

 

There was an achingly pounding spot right between his eyes, but he refused to vocalize the existence of it and instead, strictly stared forward. No one else was on the yard – no other was stupid enough to evade work like Kazunari seemingly did. Shintarou chewed the inside of his cheek and let his eyes wander, mostly towards the depressing grayness of the building behind their backs. One of the third floor windows was his… He tried to search it but couldn’t, and soon he gave up, and stared in front of him without really seeing anything. What would happen now? Finally he let his mind around the question he had evaded for days now. Just when he had managed to move out on a tiny apartment of his own after much persuasion… Would his mother really let him live alone with only one leg? He would have to quit the basketball club – no, he would quit school, too, because like this he didn’t want to be around anyone. His chest tightened and made breathing harder. The life as he knew it was gone, and he wanted to give up for good.

 

“Do you play?” Kazunari’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts.

 

Shintarou frowned. “What?”

 

“That.”

 

It took him a moment to realize what Kazunari was going on about, but when he noticed that they had stopped in front of an abandoned basketball court and he was staring right at it, his heart dropped to his stomach. He gritted his teeth and watched the hoops he could easily touch with his fingers, and could almost feel the sensation of the rough surface of the ball against his palms. _Never again_. He clicked his tongue and looked elsewhere. “No,” he grunted and wanted to get the hell out of here.

 

“I did.” Kazunari let out a gentle sigh. “Oh, it was so much fun…”

 

“Reminiscence somewhere else,” Shintarou said.

 

Although he knew that Kazunari’s eyes were glued at him, he refused to look towards him. Eventually the doctor let out a sigh and moved forward, and Shintarou was already starting a celebration of getting back inside; instead, Kazunari moved the wheelchair beside a bench and took a seat beside him. Just like this, Shintarou could properly tell apart their height difference. The man looked tiny to his eyes, and the expression on his face was one he had never seen before. Weary, tiredness – or was it frustration? Shintarou said nothing and simply looked ahead, watched two squirrels fight on a trunk of the nearby tree and felt the wind mess up his hair like his mother’s fingers sometimes did. He shuddered.

 

“I know how it must feel,” Kazunari said without a warning.

 

Again, Shintarou scoffed, but this time the back of his eyes itched and turned hotter. His expression turned into a cringe, and he looked away, didn’t want to show this shameful side of himself. It was easy to mask the sniffle’s culprit the coldness. He merely shook his head and didn’t say anything as he stared at the parking lot and hoped he could be there soon.

 

“Shintarou—“

 

“You don’t know,” he said before Kazunari could continue with his sickly sympathetic words. He removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes to the back of his palm. “Unless one of your _damn_ legs is missing, you don’t know a thing about it.”

 

He thought he heard a sigh, but the wind carried it away quickly. As much as he wanted to see exactly what kind of a look Kazunari had on his face at the moment – probably that ridiculous smile that he had shown to the little girl, too –, he wanted no part of it. Harshly Shintarou pushed his glasses back to their place and wanted to get up and walk away. A sad chuckle escaped him. The silence was unbearable, but at least he had shown Kazunari his place. So he thought, at least, and did feel a little amused.

 

Kazunari was a step ahead. “I booked you a time for rehabilitation tomorrow.”

 

“What?” Shintarou snapped and what felt like the speed of light turned to look at the man. He was shocked, to say the least, to see not a smile but lips curled downwards on Kazunari’s face. Still, he stared at him with the most threatening glare he could muster, which was probably a mere sad attempt at the moment. Finally he crossed his arms over his chest with child-like defiance. “I’m not going.”

 

“It’s part of the treatment plan—“

 

“I said I’m not going.”

 

“—and it’ll help you to live your life with the residual limb—“

 

“I’m _not_ going!”

 

Kazunari pursed his lips tightly and looked at Shintarou. A short huff escaped him but he remained looking polite. “Just give it a go, even once.”

 

“No,” Shintarou said. He didn’t want some stranger to give him advice, some stranger that probably had all their limbs still intact – he didn’t want to listen someone like that, and he didn’t want to work with anyone. He only hoped that what was left of his leg would rot away. “You can cancel it.”

 

“Alright,” Kazunari said and startled Shintarou, but before the younger of them could sigh from relief, he already continued, “In that case I’ll book an appointment with the psychiatrist next week so you can discuss—“

 

“Fine!” Shintarou exclaimed before Kazunari could continue. He let out a huff of air and rubbed his forehead with his thumb. At the moment, he hated his doctor. Was he really forced to choose between rehabilitation and _therapy_? He wasn’t going to talk to anyone about this. The former suddenly sounded like the least evil of the two. He threw a glare at Kazunari. “If I try it once, will you stop pestering me?”

 

“Gladly.” Now, Kazunari smiled again, but it wasn’t quite the smile Shintarou was used to. This one was smaller and not quite as joyful as the usual ones. “I’ll escort you there tomorrow myself, I promise you, it’s the best rehabilitation anyone could offer.”

 

“Whatever,” Shintarou mumbled to himself and squeezed his eyes close.

 

The wind howled in his ear, made sharp noises and created unpleasant tickling on the parts of skin that wasn’t covered by fabric. Again the remnants of the leg wept from pain and anger, too, and as always, he didn’t pay any attention to it. Once he would try this rehabilitation, and after that one time he would say he wouldn’t do it anymore, end of story. The wind turned harsher, brushed his hair to the other side, and in that moment it was surprisingly the only place he wanted to be in – the noise made it impossible to think about anything else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas to everyone!


End file.
